Clockwork
by Prosecutie
Summary: To Italy, Germany seems to run like a machine. With Christmas right around the corner, Italy is determined to get Germany into the Christmas spirit. A GerIta Christmas fic full of fluff. Oh, and Germany in a frilly apron.
1. December 20

My first fluff, so be gentle with reviewing. :3 Now, read, my valiant steeds! Read!

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia Axis Powers, no matter how much I want to.

~O~

Germany had never liked airports. Much too noisy. That's why he was sending Japan off alone. Italy didn't want to go anywhere without Germany, so he was staying, too.

"Well, I'm all set." Japan set his suitcases on the floor softly. "At this rate, I should have no trouble catching the plane."

"N-N-Nihon!" Italy had been weeping for so long, Germany had tied a bucket to his chest to keep the tears of the floor. ("It's a pain to get them out of the carpet," Japan had complained a while back.) "W-Why are you leaving us? It's C-Christmas time!"

Japan looked up weakly at Italy. "I told you, I'm going to stay with some relatives I haven't visited in a long while. If I wait any longer, they'll forget I'm part of the family." He sighed, shaking his head in exhaustion. "It's as if I'm already on trial."

"But! But!" Italy's buckets were beginning to overflow. Germany put a massive hand on his tiny shoulder. For most, it's a calming gesture. With Germany, it was just scary.

"It's only for a few weeks, Italy. You shouldn't give Nihon a hard time about it." He looked over to Japan. There was no way to be sure by just looking at Germany's face whether or not he would miss Japan, or if he was happy he was leaving. "Have a safe trip."

"Everything should go smoothly," Japan fiddled with his earmuffs until they covered both of his ears snugly. "It'll be up to you two to cook and clean around here. Are you sure you can handle it? I could always hire help..."

"No need." Germany held up his hand to cease Japan's suggestions. "We'll be fine. You may be the best at your job, but I'm sure one of us can come in second best. Isn't that right, Italy?"

Italy had the same clueless expression that was always glued to his face, but then gave Japan a confident thumbs up. "N-No worries, Nihon! When you get back, this place will be cleaner than it's ever been! Doitsu and me can do this!"

Japan smiled feebly. "Doitsu and I."

"Doitsu and I what?"

"N...never mind." Japan sighed and picked up his suitcases. "I'll see you both again soon." The three exchanged goodbyes and Japan proceeded to open the door, walk down the hall, and get in the elevator. Before they knew it, he was gone.

Italy stared at the empty hallway long enough for his eyes to start fuzzing up. Rubbing them vigorously, he faced Germany, who was still staring into the hallway as well.

"Doitsu! Doitsu! You realize that today's December twentieth, riiight?" Italy waved his hands in front of Germany's face like tentacles. Germany gave Italy an exasperated look.

"Of course."

"Then you know that Christmas is less than a week away~!"

"Of cou...wait, what?"

Italy tilted his head to the right and gave Germany a quizzical look. "Well, it's the twentieth today, and Christmas is on the twenty fifth, so you take that and subtract twenty-"

"I know how to do math!" Germany snapped. "I just didn't realize that it was that soon..."

_I haven't bought presents for anyone..._

"Silly Doitsu! I've finished all of my preparations," Italy boasted. "But you know? We still have a good five days until Christmas." He untied the bucket full of tears from his chest and dumped the contents into the sink, throwing the bucket into a corner. "We should get in the Christmas spirit before Christmas hits!" He frowned a bit and added, "Especially you, Doitsu. You hide your feelings from nearly everyone, and even me and Japan only get a peek at the real you. It's the holidays, and we're going to fix your stubbornness! You _will_ be happy by Christmas! I swear it!"

"The Christmas spirit?" Germany squinted. "There's no time for that, you need to catch up on training. Ever since you've been taking those Advanced Cooking classes and skipping out on training, you've turned into a complete weakling."

_Though I shouldn't admit that you were one from the start._

Italy huffed, determined to celebrate. "Doitsu, there's too much snow outside to train! Plus, I've got tons of ideas that are too good to pass up."

"War doesn't pause for snow." Germany said simply.

"Neither does Christmas." Italy countered.

Germany exhaled slowly, rubbing his temples before someone got hurt. Unwilling to prolong this waltz any longer, he uttered a single, silencing word.

"Fine."

"Ve~!" Italy exclaimed excitedly. He didn't think Germany would give up this soon, and this was certainly not Germany's usual behavior. But, everyone has to make time for the holidays somehow. "There's so much we can do, and so little time!" Italy turned around, muttering to himself and drawing in the air with his finger. "Wow..." He mumbled to himself. "Maybe if we condense some events and get rid of the lesser ones entirely..."

Germany's patience was hanging on a thread. "Well?" Germany tapped his foot a little too loudly, anxious. "What is it you want to do?"

Italy smiled. "Come with me and you'll find out!" He slipped on his boots and a coat and trotted out into the hallway.

Germany hated when he wasn't in control.

"We need to be ready when Christmas comes," Italy explained, unusually logical today. "Which means we need a Christmas tree!"

~O~

Italy had led them to a Christmas tree farm, one with the tallest, thickest, tiniest, most colorful trees you could think of. It's very hard to be colorful when it's trees you're talking about, since you can only really be green with evergreens. But those trees were amazing.

"Doitsu, Doitsu! We have to pick one out to take back with us now." Italy called over his shoulder, already running around through the gathering of trees just begging to be decorated, like a puppy waiting to get adopted from a shelter. He stopped running at the tallest tree in the entire farm. "I like this one!"

"If it's too big, we won't be able to stand it upright or put a star on the top without bending it." Germany shook his head. "Try again."

Italy picked the widest one this time. "Look! It sticks out all over the place!"

Germany shook his head once more. "If it's too wide, we won't we able to get it through the door without knocking something over. Pick again."

The spikiest one. "Too hard to decorate."

The strongest smelling one. "Too headache-inducing."

The ugliest one. "Simply nauseating."

The shedding one. "You know how Japan gets about spilling things on the carpet."

Miraculously, a perfect tree was found. It was the perfect size, didn't shed, looked fine, smelled fully of pine, but not horribly so, and was even uncommonly lightweight. Germany took a slow lap around it, inspecting every inch and aspect of the poor evergreen. The pressure was on. Italy held his breath and waited for Germany to say something.

"We're taking this one." Germany nodded, after five full minutes. Italy beamed.

Italy hummed loudly while Germany declined help from the farm owner and cut down the tree by himself, throwing it gallantly over his shoulder with ease. Heaving it on top of the car and tying it down, all Italy could do to help was stay out of the way. He lagged behind Germany, imagining the flashing lights and sparkling ornaments, the fresh cookies and tall glass of milk, the fireplace shining brightly, casting dancing shadows across the floor.

"That should do it," Germany announced, tying the tree so it would never escape. "Is that it? That's all we have to do, right? Now we can just sit back and wait for Christmas?"

"Ve~? Doitsu!" Italy scolded. "Even I know that we still have decorating to do! There's so much I have planned, we'll be lucky if we do it all! This is no time to relax."

"Alright, alright." Germany exhaled. This would be a long week.

~O~

They drove to base with no problems, and Germany once again carried the tree all by himself while Italy stood in the background. They dragged it up the flights of stairs since the tree refused to fit in the elevator, and soon the entire hallway was filled with the scent of pine. Thankfully, they got to their room without any casualties.

Eventually, they pulled the tree through the door and stuck it on a stand to the edge of the meeting room. While Germany straightened it out and got some hedge clippers, claiming the tree was bent, Italy searched the place for ornaments and the like.

He scoured the building, sifting through closets and drawers and containers, but he didn't bring back any results. Wanting firmly to do a good job for once, he absolutely wouldn't report back to Germany until he had something. Violating the building's precious rules, Italy entered Japan's room without permission. He dug through all of Japan's drawers and under his bed, unsure of what he would find or if he would find anything at all. Why would someone keep ornaments lying around, anyway?

Italy continued his quest in the deep recesses of Japan's closet, which was far bigger on the inside than you could comprehend just by looking at the outside. _There has to be something in here I can use for our tree, right? Oh, I need to help Doitsu somehow, I have to!_

In a deep, dark, and musky corner lay a box. Italy's curiosity prodded at him to reach for it, but the goodness inside him told him that he was already violating Japan's privacy enough, and that looking at that box would be pushing it.

But, as the two sides conflicting like cats and dogs, curiosity overcame, as it most often does, and Italy grabbed the box. He sat cross legged on the floor and lifted the lid off carefully. The contents of the box were now visible, and Italy stared at them in confusion. He couldn't believe his dumb luck.

And of course, I mean he found ornaments.

_Who knew Japan was the kind of guy to have these lying around, _Italy rejoiced, ready to proudly present his findings to Germany. Skipping, he began to make up his own tune while he made sure not to let go of the box and let its contents break.

Nearing his destination, he peered into the meeting room where Germany was still angrily grunting and cutting branches off their tree. Italy trotted over and squeaked a tiny, "Ne~" to get his attention. Germany noticed him over his own loud noises and put the hedge clippers down, wiping his brow.

"Oh good, I was wondering were you went," Germany then saw the ornaments. "And I see you made yourself useful. Good job." He patted Italy's head. Italy opened his mouth in a goofy grin. Germany's praise was always sincere and genuine, and you had to work extra hard for it.

Germany continued. "Well, there is one specific spot on the tree that needs work, but I was planning to turn it around so that spot would be behind everything. And now, I can distract everyone further with flashing lights and whatnot!" He gestured to Italy for the box, and Italy happily gave it up. He watched as Germany emptied the box and laid out its insides, examining each ornament. "These will do just fine."

Italy hadn't felt this accomplished since he had made Germany admit that pasta was superior to wurst, even if they had fought for a month about it, and Germany and he had only said that to shut him up. It still counts.

Luckily for Italy, he was finally able to be of assistance when Germany asked him to help set up the lights and ornaments. He took his duty very seriously, and was extra cautious with each item. The ornaments, though lengthy time wise, were a breeze, and miraculously none were broken. But when it came time to strangle the tree with lights, the only one being strangled was Italy and the lights he had somehow gotten lethally tangled in.

A short lecture from Germany later, the tree looked surprisingly nice, and both countries stepped back to admire their handiwork. Then Germany commented that something was missing, and he went back to his room, bringing silvery tinsel trailing behind him. For anyone else, all these garments on one poor tree would be too much, but somehow it worked when Germany did it.

"It looks great, doesn't it?" Italy trilled. Germany nodded, a rare smile evident on his normally serious face.

"It certainly is something." Germany's eyes seemed to linger on the tree a bit longer than Italy's before he broke the connection. Turning to Italy, Germany asked, "Are we done now?"

Italy giggled. "Of course not!"

~O~

Well? Not enough fluff? I thought so too, but it'll get steamier! Really! Review or I'll get Russia to kol you!


	2. December 21

Alright, I know I said 'steamier', but I seriously regret that now. XD This is a fluff, people! Anyways, cookies to CaCoPhAnY Of ScReAmS for being the first to review! :3 Also, thanks for Guppyvis, ribbonsandlace, and Gerosan for reviewing. It means the world. :D And thanks to the countless others for subscribing, favoriting, and encouraging to finish this before my deadline, Christmas! Now, enough of that. Let the fluff commence! :D

~O~

Germany thanked the gods when he managed to squeeze mercy out of Italy. He had managed to get Italy to save the rest of his ideas for the next day. "No use rushing through these things," Germany debated, knowing that what was coming out of his mouth was utter garbage. "Let's save some for tomorrow, hmm?"

Unfortunately, today was that so-called 'next day'. As it turned out, they did not need to leave the building for Italy's next event.

The Axis Powers building was very multipurpose. It had all the use of a regular house combined with the authority of a base. It was an interesting combination, but convenient nonetheless. There was even a small kitchen, for when you needed food, but had no ability to leave the structure. That's where Italy led Germany into next.

Looking over the kitchen quickly, Italy opened the door to the slim pantry, grabbing a frilly apron Japan had handmade of a hook. He slipped it on, tying the strings on the back tightly. He then reached back into the pantry and found another lavish apron, faintly larger. He presented it to Germany, making meek noises and waving it around.

"Put this on, Doitsu." Italy smiled, but Germany appeared more than a smidgen horrified.

"Me? I...in that?" He pointed to the apron, not in disgust, more in disbelief. "It's unthinkable! Impossible! Outlandish! I would never-" But before he realized it, Italy was behind him, tying the two strings together.

"Wow, Doitsu, you look great!" Italy sighed and placed a hand on his cheek. "I wish I looked as good in this apron as you do. I'm jealous."

Sadly enough, it was true. The apron outlined his massive muscles and highlighted his best features, just as Japan had intended.

_Nihon, _Germany clenched his fists. _How could you?_

Germany began shaking violently, but Italy was too busy foraging in the cupboards to notice. "I know we have the mixing bowl somewhere..."

"Mixing bowl?" Germany observed solemnly. "I could've guessed by these ridiculous aprons," Germany yanked his down a bit further. He was blushing like a schoolgirl. "but am I right to assume that we're going to be baking?"

Italy was deep inside the cupboard. Only his legs were visible, but a muffled, "You bet!" could be heard leaking out. Italy flailed his legs a bit and shuffled out of the cupboard, startling Germany when he emerged soaked in dust. "I found it!" Italy sputtered, coughing out soot. Germany groaned, trekking over to Italy's side.

"What am I, your mother?" Germany spat on his hand and rubbed the dust away from Italy's face. "You're a mess!" Italy struggled against Germany's hand, but overpowering Italy was more of a fit than a struggle. It was like a baby trying to trounce his parents. It simply couldn't be done.

Germany didn't stop rubbing spit on Italy's face until Italy was clean as a whistle. Glad that it was over, Italy set the mixing bowl on the kitchen counter, searching for other utensils next. Soon his arms were holding a tray, a whisk, spoons, a knife, and patterns.

"Doitsu," Italy began, setting the equipment on the counter. "You're going to learn how to make a gingerbread house!"

"Bah," Germany averted his gaze. "I can make gingerbread houses just fine."

"Then this should be a snap for you!" Encouraged Italy, rushing from place to place, gathering ingredients. "Let's see...flour, molasses, eggs, butter, brown sugar, salt, cinnamon, baking powder, ground ginger, vanilla, allspice..." He muttered to himself as he tossed everything into the growing pile on the counter.

"That looks more like a garbage heap than a gingerbread house." Germany said, meaning no offense. Even if he had meant offense, Italy wouldn't have noticed. Italy started to push things farther back into the counter so they wouldn't bother him when he didn't need them yet. He pointed the knife at Germany.

"Hold this, please."

Germany grabbed it from Italy's hands furiously. "Don't wave knives around! That's dangerous!" He bellowed. Italy remained unfazed, putting ingredients together in the bowl as if it were as natural to him as breathing. Germany stood back and watched the master at work. Unlike tree-carrying, baking wasn't exactly his forte.

"Doitsu, can you put the flour in the mixing bowl?" Italy gestured towards a plastic bad filled with the correct amount of flour, as if he had been planning this for months. Germany took it and unzipped the bag, marching over to the mixing bowl and dumping the contents in. The apron bobbed up and down and the frills swayed from side to side as he walked, creating the delicate illusion that he was skipping.

Italy continued to add to the bowl, some cinnamon here, a little ginger there, a pinch of salt. All Germany could do was follow orders, handing Italy baking soda or the allspice, leaving the butter out to soften, that sort of thing. The entire time, Italy narrated his actions in an attempt to pound the instructions into Germany's memory so he would remember the recipe for future generations.

Italy grabbed another large mixing bowl, throwing in the softened butter with sugar and some vanilla extract. He slid it across the counter over to Germany, handing him the whisk. "Normally you need a kitchen mixer for this step," Italy explained. "But I think you can do it."

So Germany mixed for a little while under Italy's strict surveillance. Italy then commanded Germany to throw in the eggs and molasses to the mixture. The molasses didn't cause any trouble at all, but when Germany tried to gently crack the eggs and mix them in, he smashed them in his hand, eggshell and all. They went through a dozen eggs trying to get two to survive and make it into the bowl.

Despite that, Italy was fairly pleased with Germany's performance and promoted him to head mixer and chief of mixing affairs. Germany couldn't help but feel proud.

Combining the two mixtures together- the egg one and the flour one- and spilled it out on the counter, dividing it into three equal pieces and forming all three of them into circles. Italy covered them in plastic wrap and placed them in their refrigerator.

"Phew. Good job, Doitsu!" Italy wiped his forehead. "Now we play the waiting game."

He hung his apron on the hook and left the room. As soon as Italy was out of earshot, Germany's legs gave out and he collapsed onto the floor. He didn't remember such simple baking being this exhausting.

~O~

Two hours later, Italy returned to the kitchen, beckoning the reluctant Germany to follow. They put their aprons back on (though Germany would've rather surrendered to Canada) and got back to work.

Italy preheated the oven and greased the cookie sheets as Germany removed the dough from the fridge, unwrapping it and cutting it into wall shapes with the patterns Italy made. Moving the walls around so they would all fit on a single tray, together Germany and Italy slipped the tray into the oven and pushed the remaining dough off to the side. Time passed and the golden brown walls were taken from the oven and placed on a wire rack to cool. Italy nearly ripped Germany's arm off waiting to add the finishing touches and perfect their masterpiece. He got started on the frosting right away, which didn't take too long as he filled a plastic bag with the sweet substance, zipped it shut and cut a tiny snip off a corner of the bag with scissors.

"Careful...careful..." Germany cautioned, holding up the walls so Italy could glue them together. Amazingly, their undecorated house looked perfect so far. The walls weren't crooked and it easily stood up by itself. Immensely satisfied with how well their project was going, Italy dashed out of the kitchen and flew into his room, unveiling a candy stash he had been working on for quite some time. Piling as much as he could into his spindly arms, he waltzed back into the kitchen, spilling candy behind him and making an unintentional trail. He dumped it all on the counter and spun around to face Germany.

"Let's decorate, Doitsu!"

When it came to the actual decorating, Italy was hard to please. It tested your very creativity just to keep him happy. Using his wits to the best of his ability, Germany found a waffle cone in the pantry and flipped it upside down, covering it in green frosting and M&Ms to make a festive and edible Christmas tree. They made licorice gates and gumdrop bushes, graham cracker walkways and pretzel windows. Frosting icicles and peanut brittle roof shingles, gummy bear people and a cinnamon mailbox. A peppermint clock and candy cane doors, lollipop trees and marshmallow snowmen. The end result was a rainbow of candy and sweets that probably weighed five pounds and threatened to ruin your commitment to your diet the minute you tore one off to nibble on.

"Doitsu..." Italy whispered, deep in thought. "...I...I love it!"

Italy leapt at Germany, hugging him tightly. For once, Germany hugged him back, a rare and meaningful smile on his face.

And they were finally done with their gingerbread house adventure.

Well, not quite. There was a long cleanup after that, and they moved the tray into the meeting room to put the house on display. They had even made gingerbread cookies with the leftover dough, which they were currently munching on while relaxing on the couch. Breaking the silence of loud _crunch_es and peaceful eating, the phone rang.

Italy stuffed the rest of his cookie into his mouth and picked up the phone, crumbs falling from the sides of his mouth.

"H...huwwo?"

"Hey! It's America!" Boomed the phone. Germany heard it from where he was sitting. "You know, the hero?"

"Oh, hi!" Italy replied.

"Listen, Italy, listen..." America instructed, even though it was clear that Italy already was. "I was at the bar with England today, and he's kind of out cold. Do you and Germany feel like entertaining tonight?"

Italy beamed. This was his chance to pump up Germany. "Sure, we'll be there as soon as we can!"

"Wait just a minute!" Germany grabbed the phone from Italy and held it up to his ear. "You're a part of the Allies, right? Why should be believe a word you have to say?"

"Silly silly Doitsu," America teased playfully. "It's Christmas time! I wouldn't dare do anything fishy! Just what kind of a person do you take me for?" He laughed in the background. Germany almost broke the phone in the palm of his hand. Italy leaned in next to Germany and spoke into the phone.

"We'll be there as soon as we can, America," Italy assured. "Save some seats for us!"

"Glad to hear it!" America laughed loudly on the other line. He called it his hero laugh. "Get here quick, or I'll penalize the both of you! Ha ha ha ha!"

The line went dead.

~O~

Though Germany loved his beer even more than the next person, he was trying to cut back a little. That's why it was so hard to get him out of the house. He had willpower like steel. Luckily for Italy, the heart wants what the heart wants, and soon, after promises of extra training and lots of BDSM magazines, they left the house. America welcomed them as soon as they got inside the bar.

"Hey, you guys came! I was seriously expecting you guys to ditch or something!" He bellowed. America led them to too stools closest to the bartender and ordered for each of them: extra alcoholic eggnog for America, Chianti wine for Italy, and beer for Germany. The ever-productive bartender had their drinks ready in eight minutes.

"Cheers!" America thrusted his glass into the air, obnoxiously spilling a bit of his drink off the sides. Italy and Germany followed suit.

"Cheers!"

A few minutes later, while indulging in their beverages, Germany couldn't help but wonder, _How does America hold his alcohol so well? He must come here almost every week with England..._

Germany stared at the pale body lying on the table next to him. England looked in a near-death state. Drool was hanging out the side of his mouth and his dazed expression left Germany feeling a little sympathetic. Just a little.

If there was anything a nation could do, it was consume five times more alcohol than an average human. America had drunk at least eight glasses of eggnog by now, feeling fine and flirting with someone. He completely forgot about his guests, but that was okay, since they had forgotten about him, too. Germany was feeling a tad woozy after beer number seven. He was swaying, not much, but enough that it was obvious. Meanwhile, poor Italy was seeing pink elephants after sip number four. He had the same dazed expression as England, lying outstretched on the cold table in front of him. Germany grabbed another beer and chugged.

"Doi -hic- tsu?" Italy weakly lifted himself from the table, only to have his arms give out and fall back onto the table.

"**Hmm?**" Germany yelled. His voice was three times louder than usual, and that was pretty damn loud. "**Wha...what is it?**"

"Do you -hic- like me?" Italy looked up at Germany with a sad, needy look in his eyes.

Germany gave an overemphasized baffled look. "**What do... what do you mean?**" Germany threw his hands in the air, simply incapable of stringing a complete sentence together. "**S...Spit it out!**"

Italy twiddled with his hair curl innocently and blushed, unable to make eye contact with Germany and gazing at the floor. "Everyone's always –hic- capturing me and -hic- bullying me and -hic- defeating me in every way possi -hic- ble." Italy looked up at Germany with a sincere expression plastered on his face. "Am I a -hic- burden? Are you sick of -hic- me?"

Germany bit his lip. "**We...Well, you're my responsibility. You're kind of...kind of like my pet.**" He took an extended swig of his beer. "**You don't...don't get sick of pets.**"

Italy suddenly looked really hurt. He leaned in on Germany, placing his hands on Germany's knees. "But I want -hic- to be more than –hic- that! Doitsu...can't we -hic- be something more?"

Germany gulped down another beer and nearly attacked the bartender while getting a refill. "**What...what are you talking a..about?**"

"I mean, Doitsu I -hic- you!"

"**You...what?**"

"I -hic- you!"

"**Huh?**"

"I love you!"

Italy leapt into Germany's arms in an affectionate embrace, burying his head in Germany's chest. Germany, so wasted that he thought his own beer was hugging him, hugged Italy enthusiastically, locking his arms around him.

Unfortunately, America was ready to leave.

"Come on you lovebirds, break it up! Let's go home, shall we?" He tore them apart (while drunk, both were easily influenced) and dragged them by their feet out the bar, into his car, and back to their base. America then proceeded to carry the two now-sleeping countries back into their rooms and in their beds.

"Man," America laughed noisily as he left. "I have got to take you guys drinking more often!"

~O~

Love it? Despise its very existence? Tell me! And if you don't review, I swear to God, a certain Germany is getting a sex change next chapter. I'm dead serious. I was talking about it to my best friend, and she said it would be a great idea! We could take this fic in a whole new direction! It would be all about Germany adjusting to his new life. Review for his sake, if not mine!


	3. December 22

I had a lot of fun writing this chapter, and I really hope you guys don't think it drones on too much. X3 Enjoy the fluff, and keep your hands and socks inside the Fluffmobile at all times. Unprofessional handling of fluff can be dangerous. :o

~O~

The very first thing that came into Germany's mind the next morning was the headache. The pounding, aching, agonizing headache. He was pretty sure his head was about to implode any moment. Suddenly he remembered why he had tried to avoid drinking in the first place. He tried to move, only to clench his teeth when he realized his joints were completely sore and that he had absolutely no strength, not even enough to sit up, let alone stand. The bright sun beaming in from the windows was enough to make him scream. His mouth was exceedingly dry and his tongue was as fuzzy as a sweater. Each time he moved, it felt as if someone was piercing his head repeatedly. Everything seemed louder than usual; the hum of the refrigerator was now a fierce roar, the clanking of pipes like the clashing of swords. A throbbing sensation overcame him as he writhed in silent pain. _It can't be...no!_

He heard the shuffling of movement from across the corridor. Just like an inchworm, Italy entered Germany's room face first, not moving his arms, only pushing himself with his feet.

"D-Doitsu!" Italy moaned. "What's going on? I feel like I'm dying!"

"Italy..." Germany swallowed hard, bowing his head down in shame. "I think we're... hungover."

"What does that mean?" Germany couldn't tell because Italy's face was in the ground, but he was willing to venture a guess that he had some sort of a confused expression.

"To put it simply," Germany began, "We drank too much." Germany paused to hold his stomach tightly, grabbing the garbage can by his feet just in case he needed to throw up.

Italy moaned again, louder this time. "What _happened _last night? All I remember is America and the bar."

"I don't know, but I have a feeling it wasn't good." Germany tried to move again, but couldn't. After all, he drank much more than Italy did.

"Really?" Italy mused. "I know this sounds strange, but I have a feeling I got something big off my chest." Italy squirmed suddenly, holding his head in anguish. "Doitsu, I feel like someone dropped a ten story building on my head! Please, just make it stop!"

"I'm not sure whether or not it'll work, and there's been a lot of doubt, but there are dozens of speculated hangover remedies." Germany comforted, trying to find a quick and easy solution to rid the demons inside his body. "You seem in slightly better shape than me, can you hand me the phone?"

"Hmm?" Italy did as he was told. "Why the phone?"

"We can either search the internet for hours, or ask one of our fellow countries for advice." Germany explained, too nauseous to even press in a phone number. "Which seems easier?" He banged on the phone, entering a random number and holding the phone up to his ear. Just then, he felt a foot long nail go straight through his head and stomach at the same time. _Good Lord, stop tormenting me!_

A few seconds later, a male voice answered the phone. "Hello?"

Germany clenched his ear in pain. "Why are you yelling?"

The man on the other end was caught off guard. "Like, what are you talking about? I'm totally not yelling!"

"There it is again! Stop, please!"

"I'm so not yelling! Like, who are you?"

"Who are _you? _And I thought I told you to stop shouting!"

"Like, I asked first! And I'm totally _not yelling!_"

"It's Doitsu! Are you happy?"

"You've reached Poland!"

"Alright!"

"Like, what do you want?"

"I...forgot."

"Then I'm totally hanging up n-"

"NO no no, wait, I was going to ask you...this is embarrassing, but do you know any good hangover remedies?"

"Totally crazy night last night, huh?" Poland teased.

"Shut up! I don't want to talk about it." Germany tried not to lose his temper, but the throbbing in his ears was telling him otherwise.

"Well," Poland offered, "We use pickle juice in Poland." He said this casually, almost as if pickle juice was the equivalent to milk, or orange juice.

"Pickle juice?" Germany could already smell it.

"Mmhmm." Poland sounded thoughtful, as if he weren't all that sure himself. "I'm, like, totally convinced that the salt in it does something, I just haven't proved it yet. But one day, one day you'll all see! You'll all-"

"Okay, Okay! I get it!" Italy watched as Germany tried to fight off the wild rant flying out of the phone. "Th...thanks for the advice! No- No I'm not...Of course, I'll be sure to- Don't worry, that won't happ- I told you already, I...Poland! Poland! Goodbye!" He slammed the phone down with a feeling of triumph over getting Poland to shut up. That was, of course, before all the feeling flooded back into his arms.

"OW ow ow.." He fell back onto his bed, cringing. "Italy!" He ordered, the pain in his arms fueling his anger. "Do we have any pickle juice?"

Italy snapped back into reality. "Pickle juice, Doitsu? I don't _think_ so, but if you're saying it will get us out of this spiraling tunnel of torture, then I'll go check!" Italy slowly got up, both of his legs shaking, struggling for balance. He awkwardly stepped to the door, trying to reach the wall for support. He looked worse than a baby trying to take his first steps. After a little while, he actually got out the door.

Italy did his best to make it down the hallway without falling, but it was a challenge. Once he actually made it to the kitchen, he considered it quite a feat. Crawling over to the refrigerator, he opened the door, the light flooding out blinded him and felt like thousands of laser pointers all pointed directly at your eye. He managed to stand up and began shuffling through the contents. Desperate for an escape from this flaming hell, he checked behind all the bottles, looked under the cans, and pursued next to the containers. Eventually, Italy just took their jar of pickles, poured some of the juice into a glass, and made his way back to Germany's room.

"Doitsu, Doitsu!" Italy called after Germany, who had not moved at all since Italy left. "What do we do now? Rub it all over ourselves? Pour it in our eyes?"

"I thought it was pretty straightforward myself, but if you really can't guess," Germany sighed. "We have to drink it."

Italy looked disgusted for the first time in his life. "Drink? This? But...it's yellow! Like urine!"

Now Germany was the disgusted one. "Italy, how can you compare actual food to something like that? Now, don't be immature. I'm not sure if this will work or not, but we're supposed to take a long sip of this. The more, the better."

"The more, the better..." Italy repeated, whimpering. Even a ditz like him knew that he'd rather drink pickle juice than be a victim of this searing pain any longer. He was being let off easy. Germany slowly (trying to avoid the pain of moving as much as humanly possible) picked up an empty water bottle off the floor, took the pickle juice from Italy, and poured half of it into the water bottle and gave the glass back to Italy.

"Bottoms up."

Simultaneously lifting their drink to their lips, the juice slipped down their throats. They didn't put their drinks down until it was empty, slamming it down on their laps, panting. Germany and Italy exchanged looks.

"Doitsu, do you feel any different?" Italy questioned, wondering what happened.

"No," Germany replied bluntly. He was pretty sure he felt exactly the same: like someone had ripped off his head from the rest of his body. "You?"

"Nope," Italy thought a bit harder to confirm his thoughts. "I feel the same."

"Huh."

Still as hung over as ever, Germany thought about his other options. "For some reason, I really wish me could ask Nihon what he thinks. I feel like he would know. But on the other hand, I wouldn't dare let him know what we were doing while he was away..."

He angrily picked up the phone again. "Let's see if we'll be let down again _this _time," He muttered bitterly, dialing in another number, but not at random this time. Germany waited for a response, gripping his forehead in misery.

Finally, a voice picked up. "Hello, aru?"

"China, hey. It's Doitsu." Germany addressed China offhandedly. "Listen, you knew Nihon well, didn't you?"

China's voice suddenly grew very dark and bitter. "You could say that. Why?" He demanded.

"We were wondering if you knew any...hangover cures he may have used. It's a long story, and there's a reason we can't ask him ourselves."

"Hmph. Seemed like you knew him best, yet even you don't know, aru," China countered, a cruel chuckle heard in the background. "No, I wouldn't know about that. We weren't...together long enough for him to have had a hangover, aru."

Germany, trying to dodge the cold shoulder China was throwing at him, continued as nonchalantly as he could. "Damn," He cursed under his breath. "I was sure you'd be the most likely to know. Are you sure there's nothing you can do?"

"Well," China sounded remarkably friendlier now that the subject was focused elsewhere. "I've heard that ginger really helps, aru. Ginger chews, ginger tea, or, of you're feeling macho, you could just take a hunk of ginger and bite clean through it! But I wouldn't advise that, aru." China snickered to himself.

"Hmm..is that so?" Germany looked as though he was evaluating the probability of success with China's tip. "Thanks, we'll try that."

"No problem, aru." And that was that.

"Italy," Germany began his orders, but Italy gestured that it was okay to stop.

"I was listening on the other line," Italy explained.

Italy's trip to the kitchen and back was just as awful as it was last time, but he refused to leave the kitchen without making Germany proud. "Doitsu!" He called, back in the bedroom. "I have the ginger!"

"Good," Germany accepted the ginger from him, looking at the chunk from all angles. "We don't have chews, and I don't think we can wait long enough to turn this into tea." He broke it in two and handed a piece to Italy. "Well? Dig in."

Thoughts such as _I sure hope this one works! _flooded Italy and Germany's head as they bit through the ginger, chewing it to pieces. The bright, spicy taste filled their mouths immediately, and Germany could tell from Italy's crazy expressions that he was struggling to not spit it out. It had a zing to it, a fresh kind of kick. It was slightly citrusy and even a bit floral. It would have been delicious, had they eaten the ginger in normal portions.

"Doitsu, ignoring the aftertaste I have in my mouth now, I feel the same." Italy reported. Germany looked disappointed.

"I hate to say it, but it's true," Germany picked up the phone again. "Who seems most likely to get hangovers constantly?"

"Ooh! Ooh! That's an easy one!" Italy exclaimed. "UK!"

"Let's give it a shot," Germany announced, dialing in the number. "Let's hope we get authentic advice this time." Three rings later, no one picked up. Germany looked at Italy, who shrugged. A few more seconds later, and they received a call back.

"Huff...huff...sorry 'bout that," England coughed into the phone. "Now, what the hell are you doing calling me?" He asked calmy.

"Erm, yeah. This might come off as rude, but you seem like the kind of man who drinks with America often, right?"

"Just spit out what you want to say, bastard." England spat.

"I've seen you after just a couple drinks, and I'm willing to bet you get hangovers often." Germany was surprised when England remained silent. "Do you have any sort of advice you'd give to cure them?"

England thought for a little. "Under any other circumstance, I would tell you to shut the hell up, and I would hand up the phone in your face. But," England exhaled slowly, "I understand a fellow nation in the hellhole that is a hangover. I'll help. I'm not sure what whether or not it'll work for you, but I'll help."

"I _was_ wondering how you were practically dead yesterday, but now it's as if you've never been better."

"Ah," England explained. "That's because I use pear cactus."

"You...what?" Germany needed to confirm that he had heard right.

"Pear cactus," England repeated. "Don't ask me why it works, but it does for me."

"Are you serious?"

"Hey, if you don't want to try it," England answered, a bit annoyed, "then go take your damn business somewhere else."

"Alright, alright." Germany was still trying to determine just how willing he was to go through with this. "Thanks. We'll try, at least."

"Good luck." England hung up.

"Italy?"

"I'm on it!" Italy got up and limped to the kitchen, bringing back with him a head of cabbage and a cactus in a flower pot.

"...where in the world did you get a cactus without leaving the building?" Germany gave Italy a puzzled look.

"It's always been on the windowsill in my room," Italy said. "You've just never noticed it."

Germany was doubtful. "Are cacti even edible? I mean, it's a cactus."

"No, no," Italy argued, trying to hide how unsure he was himself. "They're fine, healthy, even."

"But...aren't there pesticides on them? Aren't those chemicals?"

Italy thought a little. "I thought those made them clean."

"But, you can't eat chemicals," Germany observed. "Can you?"

"Er.." Italy and Germany stared at the plant. It stared back at them.

"Damn it all!" Germany ripped a portion from the plant and stuffed it in his mouth. Almost automatically, he spat it out. "Pfthe! It tasted like dirt!"

"Well?" Italy inquired. "Do you feel any different?"

"Asides from feeling like an idiot?" Germany tried wiping the taste of his tongue. "Not at all. What even convinced me that eating a cactus was a good idea?"

"The hangover." Italy reminded.

"Ah, that." Germany rubbed his temples tensely. "Well, any other bright ideas?"

"I know that Russia seems the most likely to be able to successfully hide a hangover," Italy offered. "I just can't imagine him in pain."

"Well, I'm not sure where that's going to get us, but at this point I'm open to all sorts of options." Germany dialed a number onto the phone once more and held the device up to his ear. A few seconds later, a voice replied.

"Yes?"

"It's Doitsu."

"Ah, Doitsu. And how may I be of assistance?"

"Well, we- that's Italy and I- were wondering if you knew of any-"

"Hangover cures?" Russia asked.

Germany was silent.

"How did you..."

"I had a feeling." Russia clarified. "I've often heard of the usage of thyme and persimmon."

"Herbs and fruit?" Germany questioned. "Well, at this point, we're desperate. Thanks."

"Anytime." Though when Russia said it, it sounded more like a threat to never call him again if you knew what was good for you.

"I'm on it!" Italy declared when Germany pointed at him to see if he had heard or not. A little later, Italy came back with both of the desired items. "So, we just eat it?"

"Yep." Germany picked up a persimmon and bit it, eating half of it in one go. "Well, it's delicious, but I haven't changed. Italy, status report."

"Nothing!" Italy proclaimed, swallowing his thyme. "Absolutely nothing."

Germany practically growled. "Why are all the other countries suddenly so incompetent?" He grabbed the phone violently and pressed the buttons. Italy was afraid he was going to break the phone. "Hello, Prussia? I'll get straight to the point. What's your secret hangover cure?"

"Good morning, Prussia. How are you this fine morning? Oh, good morning West, I'm fine! And you-" Prussia teased.

"Just tell me!" Germany barked.

"Sure, sure," Prussia withdrew. "I use a variety of awesome methods. I like to shake things up a bit, you know?"

"What's your best?"

"Well, recently I've tried apples, bananas, honey, lemon, lime, and peppermint." Prussia listed. "I had them all at once, but I'm sure _one_ of them worked."

"Alright, thanks." He hung up. Prussia stared at the phone strangely.

"What's his problem?" Prussia chuckled to himself.

Italy had already run to the kitchen and back with the last of all their little experiments. Together, Germany and Italy devoured the food as fast as their mouths would let them. In between bites and swallows, Germany demanded, "How do you feel?"

"Same as ever," Italy voiced. Germany gritted his teeth. Looking about ready to kick a puppy, an abrupt realization hit him.

"Wait...when was the last time either one of us felt excruciating pain?"

Italy thought hard. "...three phone calls ago? Two? I don't remember, but it was a little while ago."

Germany looked as if he were ready to kick two puppies. Maybe three. But luckily for them, Germany just gave up. He fell back onto his bed, put out and exhausted.

"Turns out just waiting for the hangover to go away really is the best cure, huh, Doitsu?" Italy crawled onto Germany's stomach. "Doitsu?"

"...Doitsu?"

~O~

After Germany's meltdown, he remembered his present-buying crisis, made up a lame excuse to feed to Italy, and left the house to buy presents for everyone. Considering there were a lot of nations he had to acknowledge, he would need to do a lot of shopping. Hopping from store to store, some nations were easy to buy presents for; an intricate music box for Austria, some high class tea for England. Others were just food; a boatload of burgers for America, three boxes of tomatoes for Spain and Romano. Others were downright impossible.

_ What's the type of thing Italy would want?_ Germany repeated this question in his head over and over, failing to find an answer. _Pasta? No, he can make that himself..._

While Germany was busting his butt over what to buy Italy, he ignorantly bumped into someone. "Oh, excuse-"

Russia peered down on Germany. "Why, hello." Germany stepped back and made himself look presentable. "Did you find my advice to be of any use?"

"Oh, Russia," Germany announced. "Sadly..."

"I see." Russia smiled a creepy smile. "I'm sorry to hear that."

Germany was determined to change the subject. "I know that I'm the irresponsible one here, but what are you doing shopping three days before Christmas?"

"To be quite frank, I forgot." Russia explained. "It happens every year. In Russia, Christmas is celebrated thirteen days after your date, on the seventh of January. It always seems to slip my mind somehow, and I end of shopping at the last minute."

"I... forgot too," Germany admitted. "The holidays. So unnecessarily hectic, right?" They two nations exchanged a laugh, but awkward silence soon followed.

"Well, I'd better get going." Russia declared. "My sisters will be disappointed if I arrive home late."

"See you later, then?"

"I wouldn't think so."

Soaked in cold sweat, Germany was grateful when Russia finally left. When Russia was around, it always felt as if he were sucking all the oxygen out of the room, not allowing anyone to breathe.

_ Well, Italy's not a very material person, I think. He'd want something of more value...memories, maybe?_

Doing what he felt was the right choice, Germany left the store, having bought presents for all the other nations but Italy.

_ Just watch, Italy. _Germany pondered. _This Christmas will be different from all the others. I'll make sure of it._

~O~

Aw, Doitsu. :) By the way, I've written out how the rest of the story goes, and the next chapter will knock your socks off, I am telling you. :o Look forward to it. If you review, Russia will let you touch his scarf AND his pipe! Review, review, review! :D


	4. December 23

It was only nine in the morning when Italy barged into Germany's room demanding something. Unusual, because he could usually wait until noon.

"Doitsu, Doitsu!" Italy ran in and paced over to Germany, who was writing something in official looking handwriting at his desk. "I have something to say!"

Germany took a deep breath and gave his attention to Italy. "Yes?"

"We didn't do anything Christmas related yesterday!" Italy huffed. "Think about it! Nothing!"

_Maybe _you_ didn't..._ Germany mused.

"Just what are you proposing we do, then, since I know you won't leave me alone until I bend to your will?" Germany would've rather done something productive like training, or filling out quarterly reports, but Italy just wouldn't give it a rest. It didn't matter; the holidays were almost over anyway. As much as it pained him, Germany imagined they had a few more days to waste.

"Well, while you were out doing volunteer work," Italy repeated the bogus excuse Germany had given him yesterday so he could sneak out and get shopping done. "I went to a DVD rental shop! I've got at least nine hours of Christmas miracles on these DVDs, and we're not leaving this building until we finish each and every one!"

Germany let Italy tow him into one of their many rooms with huge monitors, all which doubled as televisions. Only one room had a television and a comfortable sofa, and that's the one Italy chose. Apparently, when Germany wasn't watching, Italy had prepared popcorn and drinks and pasta, all spread out over the coffee table. Feeding the first of many disks to come into the DVD player, Italy set Germany on the couch and crawled on top of him. Germany made an effort to struggle, but Italy was not moving from his spot.

Just as Italy had ordered, they watched them all. At the end of everyone, Italy would be in tears and Germany would have to comfort him until Italy stopped crying and go on to the next movie. Though Germany normally detested these sorts of movies, the kind where "oh, no one believes in Christmas" and "we have to save Christmas for everyone!" and everything that happens is the very essence of the word 'predictable'. But, as much as he hated to admit it, there were rare moments during some of the movies where he could feel his heart tugging in sympathy, if only just a little. Watching them with Italy made it different, made it better. He actually enjoyed it, something that would have never happened if he hadn't have watched them with Italy.

They spent an entire morning glued to the screen, hypnotized by the passing cheesy Christmas scenes. The only times they left the room were to get breakfast and lunch and for bathroom breaks, _never _while the movie was playing. They would even take bathroom breaks together and when they would get back to the room, Italy would crawl back on top of Germany. Germany got used to it after a while.

Just as Italy had promised, a full nine hours passed until they were done with every one of the movies. Almost anyone else besides Italy or Germany would've committed suicide by then, but Germany was always unusually patient when it came to Italy. That's not to say all that television didn't affect him, though. Nearly drowning in Hollywood Christmas cheer, Germany was gasping for breath once the movies were over. However, Italy was another story.

"Doitsu," Italy called over to him. "I'm hungry again. What time is it?"

Germany stepped into the hallway to check the clock hanging in the wall. "It's a little after six. And my brain feels like pudding."

"Can we go out to eat?" Italy begged. "Pleeeeaaaaase?"

Germany wasn't really in the mood to cook, and Italy was fine with it. Germany's wallet didn't disagree, either. "Sure, why not?" he approved. "Where do you feel like going?"

"I know, I know! China's place!" Italy yipped. "Like in _A Christmas Story_!"

Germany thought carefully. "Good choice. Give me half an hour and we'll leave, okay? There are some things that need some finishing up."

"Okay!" Italy trotted out of the room, humming to himself. Germany would have gone back to his room and finished his quarterly report. He would have cleared of his desk before they left. He would have cleared out the empty beer bottles from his enormous beer stash. But, before he could do any of those things, the phone rang.

"Axis Powers," Germany answered the phone solemnly. Someday, he would install Caller ID. It was on his to do list.

"Doitsu, how's it going?" Obviously, it was America. "You seem to have gotten over your hangover spell! Good for you!"

"How did you know we had hangovers?" Germany interrogated.

"Oh, come on!" America laughed loudly. "You guys looked awful, of course you were gonna get hangovers!"

"..."

"In any case, you guys were a riot, man! You should've seen it!" America recalled the events like it was one big, magic circus.

"Was...was it really that humiliating?" Germany blushed slightly, still unable to remember.

"Man, you sound like you don't remember a thing!" America laughed, then grew silent. "Wait...you don't really..."

Germany didn't say a word.

"You're _serious? _Wow, this is a shocker." America shook his head, but Germany couldn't tell that from the phone. "Then you don't remember anything? Not even a little bit?"

"...unfortunately." Germany admitted.

"Well..." America trailed off, deep in thought. "I guess this means I'll have to tell you myself."

Germany gulped. "Tell me...what?"

It only took a matter of minutes to tell the whole story.

"Italy _what?_" Germany couldn't tell left from right. All the color drained out of him, first his hair, his face, then his clothes, until he was just a black and white husk of his former self.

"Calm down Doitsu, just calm down," America tried to soothe him, but it was like trying to calm down a rhinoceros. It just couldn't be done. "Think about it; both of you were highly intoxicated. There's always a chance that what Italy said wasn't true."

"But...this is...I mean! What?" Germany couldn't find the right words to convey his feelings, and he probably never would. "It's not like I have anything against Italy, he's...fun, and can cook...and can take the dullest of dull situations and make it seem interesting...but I mean, really! _Love?_"

"It is strange, isn't it?" America commented.

"And you're sure he used those exact words?"

"I've probably never been surer of anything in my entire life!"

"Mein gott...what am I supposed to do?" Germany hadn't felt this confused since...well, ever.

"Well, if Italy hasn't brought it up since then, then I'd take his lead and pretend it never happened." America did his best to counsel the distressed Germany. "That's the best advice I can give."

"Easy for you to say."

"You know...there is one more possibility."

"Lay it on me, I've got nothing to lose at this point."

America cleared his throat. "There's the chance that Italy was speaking from the bottom of his heart."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I mean that he doesn't even realize his feelings yet. That he was telling the truth, but he doesn't know that he feels that way just yet."

Italy called out from the hallway. "Doitsu~! Doitsu, are you ready to go yet?"

"I forgot!" Germany spat quietly into the phone. "I have to take Italy out to eat."

He explained to America.

"Good luck. And keep your chin up! I still think he was too drunk to know what he was saying! Act like you did before I called you."

"Well, here goes nothing." They both hung up.

Putting his boots on a little slower than usual, trudging down the stairs, missing the strength to open the car door, Germany had an impossible amount of thought swirling in his mind like a blender. Italy kept asking him what was wrong, but Germany couldn't answer him. He couldn't even look Italy in the face without feeling like his face was melting off.

Eventually, they did arrive to China's restaurant, aptly named 'China's restaurant'. Naturally, China, being the gentlemen that he was, greeted both the countries at the door.

"Aha! So even the tough Germany has a soft spot for Chinese food, aru?" China snickered to himself. He took their coats away and led them inside. The restaurant was set up in a buffet style, convenient for all those Chinese food fanatics. Grabbing two plates and handing one to Germany (who was still thinking, and Italy had to step on Germany's foot to get his attention) they wandered around, searching for the food they wanted to eat until the entire plate was full. They found the fortune cookie bucket, and Germany, still in a daze, grabbed a large handful of six cookies and stuffed them in his pocket. Italy, trying to follow Germany's example, did the same. His hand could only hold three. They found a table (only it was really just Italy dragging around a husk of Germany) and sat down, and Germany was still knee deep in thought and daydreams.

"I need to go to the restroom." Germany suddenly announced.

"Don't be long!" Italy waved to Germany as he left the table. Germany stared at Italy in emotional confusion. _Did he really say that? Did he really say that he _loved _me? Why?_

With clouds of anguish hanging over him, he walked into the bathroom. He was surprisingly the only person there. He didn't really need to use it, he just needed time to think without Italy being there. He leaned against the wall in emotional pain equivalent to the physical pain from hangover from yesterday.

Germany furrowed his eyebrows and sighed, placing his face in his hands. Dread hung over him like a plague. He put his hands in his pockets and remembered the fortune cookies. He was pretty hungry, and in an attempt to distract himself, he pulled a cookie out and slipped it out from the plastic. Germany trusted his solitude enough to talk to himself. "Is it true? Did Italy really love me?" Germany ate the cookie and read the fortune.

_DON'T BE OVERLY SUSPICIOUS WHERE IT'S NOT WARRANTED_

"What do you mean not warranted?" Germany protested. "I mean, America wouldn't have any reason to lie to me."

Germany stared up at the bathroom ceiling. It wasn't a pretty sight. "Besides... dating another guy...it just...wouldn't work. I could never get used to it." Germany opened another cookie and read the fortune.

_LEARN TO BROADEN YOUR HORIZONS, DAY BY DAY_

Germany scoffed at the fortune, but softened. "Fortune cookie, what should I do?" He ate another cookie and read the slip of paper.

_FOLLOW YOUR HEART_

"My...heart?" Germany wondered. "I'd never really thought about that. I guess Italy...he is kind of charming, in a way..."

Meanwhile, waiting for Germany to come back, Italy opened one of his fortune cookies and read the paper.

_AN ADMIRER FINDS YOU CHARMING_

"Eh~? Really? No way! I have an admirer!" Italy tried to imagine what he might look like.

Germany needed more answers. "Well, say I do tell Italy I love him. There's no way I could meet his needs. He... he deserves a better boyfriend than me. He needs someone who can make him happy." Germany cracked open another fortune and read it.

_QUALITY COUNTS AND YOU'VE GOT IT_

Germany laughed. "Thanks." But Germany wasn't done just yet. "Well, what about STDs and stuff like that?" Germany blushed like crazy, thinking about how insane he must be to be thinking this far ahead. "I've never even kissed a girl, for God's sake!" He nearly ripped open the fortune cookie to get to the precious cargo inside.

_GOOD HEALTH WILL BE YOURS FOR A LONG TIME_

Germany exhaled. Suddenly, a smile spread across his face. "Well, what's in it for me, hmm?" Germany crossed his arms. "Italy gets a new boyfriend, apparently the one he dreams about when he's drunk. What about me? What happens to ol' Germany?" He opened his penultimate fortune cookie.

_SATIUSFACTION IS A FULL REWARD_

Germany laughed so hard, tears formed in his eyes. "Satisfaction, eh?" Germany felt relieved, for some reason. He couldn't believe he was taking advice from a fortune cookie, but at least now the five tons that had been piled up on his stomach were all gone. He almost felt like a new man, but that would be pushing it. "Well, thanks anyway, fortune cookie. It's good to know that someone really does have the answers for everything." He ate his very last fortune cookie.

_NO PROBLEM_

The rest of the night was smooth sailing. Germany went back to his table, a pouting Italy scolding him for making him wait. Plus, all of Germany's food was cold. Germany felt refreshed, he could laugh along with Italy now and all the color had returned to his face. He had practically rediscovered himself. He had never, ever felt this good before. It was totally new to him, but he could tell that he could get used to it.

Italy revealed another fortune. "'The coming few days will bring winds of change to your life.'" Italy read aloud from his cookie. "Hmm...Doitsu, does it mean good change or bad change?"

Germany stuffed half of the food on his plate in his mouth and swallowed. "I'm willing to bet it means good change for sure."

"Doitsu, Doitsu, look!" Italy chirped as he opened his last fortune cookie. "It says, 'a great day lies ahead in the not too distant horizon'. I think it means Christmas! Do you think so, too?"

"Of course," Germany replied, smiling a genuine, relaxed smile at Italy. "This Christmas will be the best Christmas ever, right?"

Italy grinned like a schoolgirl and giggled. "Of course!" Germany ruffled Italy's hair.

China watched from far away at his podium, daydreaming. It was a growing habit recently. "Man," China mumbled to himself. "Those too make a great couple together."

He bit on his pen. "I'm almost jealous, aru."

America was sitting in his chair, wondering just how his new buddy Germany was doing. He was honestly worried about him. "Knowing Doitsu, he probably found away to keep the situation under control by now." America mused. "That's the Doitsu we all know and love."

If America had ever found out Germany had used fortune cookies, America would've kicked Germany's ass already.


	5. December 24

"Your move."

Germany, waking up excruciatingly early as always, had decided to take America's advice and wait until at least after the holidays to do anything about Italy's and his current relationship. To take his mind of things, he was playing a healthy game of chess against himself. He marched to the other side of the table and kneeled, eye level with the chessboard. Squinting, he eyed the board completely, patrolling it as if it were a battleground. Germany was on the verge of gaining his opponent's queen when he heard something coming from Italy's room. Pulling himself away from the game, he headed over to Italy's room, unsure of what to expect. He was about to knock on the door when Italy opened it and hit Germany's face, squishing him against the wall.

"D-Doitsu! Doitsu, w-where are you?" I'd like to say that Italy was crying, but that would be the understatement on the decade. He wasn't even weeping. It was more like bawling and howling.

"..."

Germany pushed the door away and turned to Italy, ignoring the unique way the door had bent his arm. "What happened, Italia?"

"I...I..." Italy bit his lip and took a deep breath, trying not to choke on his own tears. "I had a really weird dream with pasta and aliens and they were chasing me and I didn't know what to do!"

Germany was unsure of how to react.

Italy buried his head in Germany's chest, gripping his shirt. Germany could feel Italy's sobs in his chest with every syllable that came out of Italy's mouth. "And then I fell down a hole and then there were wursts and they tried to strangle me!" Italy banged his head against Germany.

Italy continued to wail and wail, saying things like, "I don't understand why my beloved pasta would betray me!" and "Wurst…so much wurst!". Germany was grasping at straws, searching for a quick way to distract Italy.

"Hey Italia," Germany put his hands on Italy's shoulders. "Maybe you forgot, but it's Christmas Eve."

Suddenly, Italy stopped sobbing. He slowly looked up at Germany, a bewildered expression on his face. He let go of Germany's jacket which was now drenched in Italy's tears. "You're...right!" Italy eyebrows looked like they would jump off his face; they were so high up his forehead. "I'll be right back!" He jumped back into his room, rummaging through his closet. Just like always, Germany had no idea what Italy was up to. A couple minutes later, Italy leapt out again, carrying a box the size of a mailbox. He scurried into the kitchen, placing the box on the table and beckoning Germany to follow him. Lifting the lid of the box, he revealed a stash of cards.

"It's Christmas Eve," Italy stated. "Christmas is tomorrow. I can't believe we haven't sent out holiday cards yet!" Italy threw his hands in the air. "I just hope they make it in time. Now," Italy handed Germany a fancy fountain pen. "Doitsu, I'm putting you in charge of filling out the cards. I'm trusting you not to make any mistakes!"

"Naturally." Germany said. "Wait, then what are _you _doing?"

"I'm going to look for that fantastic group picture the three of us took a few months ago and put it in each of the cards. I'm pretty sure I made at least a hundred copies of that thing..." Italy explained. "Remember, we need a card for each of the major nations if we don't want a war to spout, and remember the nations that don't celebrate Christmas, we don't want to be attacked either. You know, send one to each of the Allies, some of the other countries like Turkey and Korea, anyone you can think of."

Germany nodded slowly. Italy galloped away, disappearing up the stairs. Germany could already hear him tearing down the house on his quest for the photo. He thought a little bit about what to write in the cards, making a mental list of non-Christian countries. He picked up the first card of the stack and got to work.

Only a little bit later, Italy flew down the stairs (and nearly tripped, mind you) and into the kitchen, where Germany was still hard at work. "I've got it!"

"The photo?" Germany asked innocently.

"What else?" Italy dumped a stack of photos on the table and reached for the glue stick, ready to glue a photo in each of the cards. He sat next to Germany, who moved the pile of cards he was done filling out in the middle of them.

They finished in record time, a nice, neat stack of completed cards sitting obediently in the middle of the table. They even had a spare for Sealand. Just when Germany thought they were done, that's when Italy brought out the stamps and envelopes. They licked everything, slipping the cards inside the envelopes, and writing the addresses on the back, and sticking the stamps on. Germany braved the winter cold to stuff the envelopes into the mailbox and get back inside the building.

Italy floated over to Germany, seemingly happier than usual. "Doitsu, Doitsu~" Italy tapped Germany's back. "Guess what?"

"What?" Germany looked up from his chessboard again. "I'm so close to winning!"

"I did a little research on German traditions during Christmas time," Italy began. "And I found out about that pickle thingy!"

'That pickle thingy' was supposedly an old German tradition of hiding a pickle shaped ornament somewhere deep in the Christmas tree. The other family members try and find it. Pretty simple, except for the fact that no one in Germany can actually remember that ever happening.

"I know it may or may not actually be a complete myth," Italy got quiet. "But...even if it is, I think it would still be fun!"

Germany didn't say anything and decided not to argue.

"Since we don't have our own pickle ornament, I thought we could use a real one!" Italy got excited again and held up his dripping wet pickle. "I'll hide it for you, okay?"

Italy then chased Germany out of the room so he couldn't watch him. A moment later, Italy called Germany back into the room. Germany walked over to the Christmas tree, starting at the top and scrolling down. When he reached the bottom, he was bewildered. Where was that pickle? Germany swallowed his dignity and got on the floor, slipping under the Christmas tree and looking up. Nothing. Germany gave the tree one more look-over but got nothing. Exasperated, he swung around the whole tree like a vulture. He checked every individual branch. Where was that pickle?

Germany stared at Italy. "Where did you hide it?" But Italy just giggled.

"I'm not telling!"

Germany nearly roared as he glared ferociously at the Christmas tree. "It's got to be there somewhere!" He nearly knocked the Christmas tree over while he was looking for it, shaking it, yelling at it, hitting it, swatting away branches to look deeper inside the tree. "You damn pickle!" Germany shouted, determined to find that pickle even if it killed him. "Why can't I find you?" He jumped back into the tree and kept looking. It had to be in there somewhere.

"You'll never find it!" Italy did a little dance. Germany glared at him evilly before noticing something. There was a wet spot on Italy's pants.

_No...No, he wouldn't..._

Germany gradually walked away from the tree and over to Italy. Italy started squirming a bit, not wanting Germany to get any closer. Germany, now nose to nose with Italy, looked down. Germany opened up Italy's pants and stuck his hand inside and pulled something out, something wet, green, and bumpy.

"Oh no!" Italy giggled maniacally. "You found my floppy pickle!"

"What do you mean 'floppy'?" Germany disagreed. "It's hard. Feel it."

"Oh, you're right." Italy confessed. Germany felt much better now that he had the ever elusive pickle in his hands.

"Italia, you're supposed to hide the pickle in the Christmas tree." Germany explained, like a teacher to a student.

"Oh, really? Well, in any case," Italy was already thinking about something else. "When I was doing my research, I found out that Germans give out their presents on Christmas Eve, but I'll give you your present tomorrow, okay?" Italy smiled mischievously.

Germany nodded. "In that case, you'll get yours tomorrow, too."

"Then it's set!" Italy exclaimed. "Hey Doitsu, can you sing?"

Germany had tried. He really had. He argued, he resisted, and he refused. But in the end, Italy had managed to persuade Germany to go caroling. Now they were all dolled up in boots and scarves, coats and mittens going door to door while singing in people's faces. Lovely.

"I-Italia," Germany whimpered. "Do we have to?"

"I've been specifically saving this activity for Christmas Eve, and you're not backing out now!" Italy proclaimed. "Now, repeat after me. Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way!"

"Italia, I know the songs-"

"Just do it!"

Germany huffed. "Jingle...bells, Jingle...bells...jingle..."

"No, no, no!" Italy scolded. "Like this! Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way!"

"_Jingle bells...jingle..._"

"Lower!"

"**Jingle bells, jingle bells-**"

"Gah, higher!"

"JINGLE BELLS! JINGLE BELLS!"

"This is singing, not shouting!"

Eventually, Italy was satisfied and they chose a random house to start at. Picking a nice fancy one, Italy skipped up the pathway and knocked on the door repeatedly. Italy held his breath as someone answered the door, rose petals rushing out with the winter wind out of the door crack.

"Bonjour!" France declared. "Season's greetings, foul swine!" The insult blew right over Italy's head, but Germany raised an eyebrow.

"We're caroling!" Italy cheered. France burst out laughing.

"You two? Caroling?" France laughed harder. Germany clenched his fists. "You even got Germany to participate! I've got to hand it to you, Italia, you sure know how to keep your beast on a leash!"

"I try!" Italy snickered. Germany was about ready to leave.

"Well? I'd love to here you," France coaxed. "After all, that's what you're here for, non?"

"Of course," Italy announced. "Doitsu, ready?"

"..."

"Ready!" France answered for Germany.

They weren't half bad, actually. In fact, France was impressed. They were much more in harmony and sync then your average carolers. When they were done, France was frozen, still in a dreamlike state, as if he were still listening. He abruptly started clapping, smiling at the two partners.

"Delightful, simply delightful!" France commented. "You make a good pair." Just then, France looked like he had just had an epiphany. "Say, America is throwing a Christmas party tomorrow at his place. He told me that I could invite anyone. You should come."

"Really?" Italy gasped. "That'd be great! We don't really have anything planned then."

"Then I'll see you there." France grinned. "Ciao~!" He blew a kiss and flew back inside his house. Italy walked away from the house to go back to their building.

"Come on, Doitsu, let's go home."

"Eh?" Germany was baffled. "What happened to caroling?"

"We've got a lot to do tomorrow, silly!" Italy called behind him. "We don't have any time to waste."

_Aha! So you admit that we're wasting time. _Germany thought to himself.

"Doitsu, are you coming or not?" Italy hollered to Germany.

"Yeah, yeah." said Germany.

Back at base, Italy was kneeling on a chair and staring out the window, both of his hands on the window pane as he watched each of the snowflakes fall. The cool glass of the window caught each of his breaths and fogged up, the condensation disappearing as soon as it appeared. Suddenly, he had a realization. He asked, "Doitsu, we're probably going to be at that party for a long time, right?"

"Most likely." Germany answered, flipping through a suspicious magazine with a bored expression on his face. Italy looked at Germany solemnly.

"Even if we're not enjoying ourselves, we'd stay there from start to finish to be polite, right?"

"Yep." Germany flipped to a new page. "Why?" He didn't look away from his magazine for a moment.

Italy leapt off his chair and trotted over to Germany, placing his hands on Germany's knee like a puppy. "Doitsu, since we're going to be busy tomorrow, there's one thing I still want to do."

"What is it?" Germany inquired.

Half an hour later, Italy and Germany were in their car at a Christmas light display.

"Wow..." Italy mumbled as they drove past giant candy canes and gingerbread men covered in lights. If you tuned your radio to the right station, you'd get an earful of songs and carols and catchy jingles. Italy continually pestered Germany about driving slower so that he could take it all in. The titanic Santas and the towering gingerbread men, it reminded Germany more of an attack than a display. Yet somehow, Italy was enjoying himself. He oohed at the gigantic horses that moved from side to side, and awed at the massive reindeer. He'd even convinced Germany to open the window and let him lean out to get a better look at things. Italy was having the time of his life, and Germany didn't really understand why.

"Why do you love these lights so much?" Germany asked curiously. Italy ripped his eyes away from the flashy display for just a second, giving Germany a what's-wrong-with-you expression.

"Why wouldn't I love them?" Italy looked back to the lights, clearly loving every minute of it. "They're so dazzling, they're like a dream come true!"

"I-Is that so?" Germany replied. _My dreams are more vivid than this..._

"Isn't it great?" Italy added, catching Germany's attention. "All these lights...a group of people got together to make this happen. And now there's a whole line of people here to enjoy it!" Italy was referring to the people in cars honking madly behind them. "I wonder if people will be having fun like this at the party tomorrow."

"I'd think so," Germany offered. "It's a party, after all."

"Yeah..." Italy rested his head on the car door. "Doitsu..."

"What is it?" Germany asked, swerving the car and nearly hitting a colossal snowman.

"Just...let's remember this day." Italy smiled feebly and sighed, continuing to watch the immense, blinding figures as they strolled by. "And the people we are now."

Germany was dumbfounded. Was Italy...thinking? This wasn't the Italy he knew. "Italia, did you eat something bad before we left?" Germany sounded genuinely concerned.

"No!" Italy assured. "Nothing like that. I just want to live in this moment right now."

Was it really all that great? To Germany, they were looking at a bunch of insanely big, cheap inflatable monstrosities in a squished car with a line of imbeciles honking at them from behind. Maybe there was something he didn't see.

"I see the exit," Italy announced sadly.

"Italia, cheer up," Germany said. "Tomorrow's Christmas, remember?"

Italy perked up. "You're right. Let's go home."

"Where do you think I'm driving to, fool?" Germany teased, lightly.

Tomorrow would be a big day indeed.


	6. December 25

Oh noes, last chapter! Well anyway, I broke my back getting this out in time for you guys, so you'd better enjoy it. Super long chapter because I LOVE YOU. Merry Christmas and a happy new year, everyone! Let this fluff be my Christmas gift to you! :3 Beware of product placement! Can you find it? :D By the way, I DID IT I DID IT I got the last chapter out before Christmas! Take that, life!

~O~

There was just something about America. It was what made him invite you to a bar. It was what made him think he was a hero. It was what kept him alive, even on a steady diet of burgers and soda. And it was that very same something that kept him from waiting to call you at two in the morning.

"I'm so glad you guys accepted the invitation, even though it was so last minute!" America exclaimed. "France told me he invited you guys late last night, so I just wanted to call."

"Mmhmm." Germany mumbled from under his covers. He did his best not to wake up Italy by keeping the volume low, but that was bordering the impossible with America. His booming voice stretched far out of Germany's room and into the corridor, where it faded into silence. Luckily, this was one of those rare nights where Italy didn't insist on sleeping with Germany. Therefore, he was safely out of earshot.

"I wanted to remind you to look your best tomorrow! Oh," America added. "And bring a hot date!" America waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"A d-date?" Germany leapt out from under his covers. America chuckled at Germany's childish reaction. "But you never told me that!"

"That's why I'm telling you now. Don't worry," America assured his new bff Jill. "I'm certain you'll find one in time for the party! If you're half the lady killer I picture you to be, than this will be a piece of cake!"

"Lady killer?" Germany cringed at the vulgar term. Did he really come off as that sort of person?

"Anyway, don't think about it too hard." America advised. "Just sit back and let the ladies flock to you. Isn't that what you always do?" America laughed loudly. Germany was at a loss for words. How in the world had America gotten this kind of impression of him?

"Are you saying that you've seen girls 'flock' to me before?" Germany asked.

"Well, no...but you just look like you have so much real experience, you know?"

"No, I don't know. In fact, I have no idea what you're talking about." Germany countered irritably, only causing America to laugh louder. One of these days, Germany was going to hot glue some duct tape over America's mouth.

"In that case, I wouldn't worry. Just find someone! I hear Seychelles is open!" America laughed and hung up. Where did he get all of that energy from? Germany nearly threw the phone back in its place, and went back to sleep.

Several hours later, Germany woke up, the natural way. He allowed Italy to sleep a bit longer, only to hear him crashing down the corridor minutes later.

"Doitsu, Doitsu!" shouted Italy, tackling Germany onto the floor with an enthusiastic hug. "It's Christmas! It's finally Christmas!"

"I know, I know! You're crushing my spleen!" Germany hollered, lifting Italy off of him as if Italy were just a weightless kitten. Italy was practically having a spasm. He dashed down the stairs and rushed over to the Christmas tree, only to gasp in delight. The tree was smothered in so many presents, only the glowing star at the top was visible. Germany stared at the presents in suspicion.

"Finland..." Germany mumbled. "You've done it again."

"Doitsu, look!" Italy exclaimed, shaking one of the colorfully wrapped presents. They were covered in ribbons in a variety of colors and a rainbow of bows and patterned wrapping paper. "There's so many for both of us!" Italy tried to count them all but kept losing count. "Santa was even smart enough to mail all Nihon's presents directly to him. Either that, or Nihon didn't get any presents this year."

"Santa...right." Apparently, 'Santa' also led a delivery service, because other nations' gifts to Germany and Italy were also included in the enormous pile. Either that, or every single one of the nations had broken in last night at the same time and Germany simply hadn't noticed. Silly him.

"Doitsu, speaking of present," Italy added. "I promise you'll get your present before the end of today, 'kay?"

"Mm." Germany agreed. "In that case, I'll give you yours whenever you give me mine."

A good portion of their morning was spent opening presents and comparing them, seeing which countries had decided to be cheapskates this year and which ones were especially generous. It was a pretty foul thing to do, but it was a load of fun. The cleanup afterwards, however, was not. The crumpled wrapping paper, ribbons, and once mighty bows were just as plentiful as the gifts themselves, and it took quite a bit of work before they were able to see the floor again. But, as with everything, eventually they got it done.

"Say, Doitsu," Italy spoke. "The party isn't until way later today, and there is _one_ more thing we need to do. And by we, I mean you."

Germany was afraid to ask, but knew that it would be over sooner if he got it over with now. "What is it this time?"

"I sort of, signed you up for something." Italy admitted, with only a hint of guilt. It wasn't nearly enough guilt for Germany's tastes.

"Without even asking me?" Germany clarified. It was no use, this was the kind of thing Italy was expected to do on a regular basis.

"Well, yeah," Italy confessed. "But I'm sure you're going to love it!"

~O~

An hour later, Italy had taken Germany to the mall. In the very heart of the mall in a giant throne surrounded by elf minions, lay a disgruntled Germany in a Santa suit. That was where soccer moms were paying to get precious photos of Germany and their children. Italy was safely in the sidelines.

"Now now, Doitsu," Italy persuaded Germany. "Think of the children! Plus, we could use the extra money."

"Tell me, why," Germany argued. He was wearing the whole shebang: a red hat with the fluffy white pompom at the end, a Santa suit stuffed with pillows, the monster black boots, and even the massive white beard and mustache combo. "Oh why, would the mall need a fake Santa on _Christmas?_"

"Shh, shh!" Italy had begged. "Don't say 'fake'! The kids will hear you!"

"But the entire point of these mall Santas is so the kids can tell 'Santa' what they want for Christmas and their parents will overhear it, deciding whether or not they'll get it for their kid. But it's Christmas already! It's too late!"

"It's not too late," Italy assured. "Some people think that if they still ask now, Santa will make another round by their house and give them what they asked for." Italy explained. "Besides, doesn't it just give you a fuzzy feeling inside?" Italy beamed.

"No."

"Hey, look!" Italy blurted. "Your first customer!"

Two grown men were advancing gradually towards the throne, one dragging the other by the wrist. Getting closer to Germany, he was sure he could make them out. It was Finland, dragging Sweden close behind him. Germany couldn't hear them, but he could tell that Sweden was definitely struggling. When they got close enough, Finland pushed Sweden into the empty line.

"Now go tell Santa what you want, okay?" Finland told Sweden. Finland went over to Italy and started a friendly chat in the sidelines. Sweden reluctantly walked up to Germany. To Germany's disbelief, Sweden sighed and sat on Germany's lap.

"U-umm..." Germany stuttered, getting increasingly uncomfortable. A serious look washed over Sweden's exasperated expression and Sweden stared at Germany square in the eye.

"Alright S'nta, let's cut t' the ch'se." Sweden was starting to frighten Germany a bit. "If I could ask you f'r a huge fav'r, I'd owe y'big time if y'could..." Sweden gulped and leaned over to 'Santa', whispering something in his holly jolly ear. Suddenly, Germany's face fell and he blushed madly. Sweden stepped away from his ear. "That's 'll."

"I-I...I..." Germany stuttered, still tomato red. "I'll d-do what I can."

"Th'nks." Sweden said solemnly, stepping off from the throne and back over to Finland, who had said goodbye to Italy before Finland and Sweden disappeared together, holding each other's hands tightly.

"Aren't they such an adorable pair?" Italy bubbled, gazing at them fondly as they entered another store. Germany said nothing, unable to get the red off his face. "What did Sweden ask for, Germany?"

"I...can't tell you." Germany stammered. "It's...it's too...graphic."

Italy's face sunk. "Really? Oh, well. Hey look, here comes another one."

Santmany watched as Spain and South Italy approached the throne. Once again, it was obvious who was being forced into this and who was being dragged into it.

"Eh? Bro!" Italy nearly pounced on his brother. "How's it been?"

"It'll be far better once you get off me!" South Italy protested. "I'm not here because I want to be, alright?"

"Of course you are, silly." Spain contradicted, rubbing South Italy's head. "Sorry if we're a bother," he apologized to North Italy. "Is this where the line starts?"

"It's not a bother at all! Don't worry about any lines, there's no one here anyway, just barge right in." Italy assured.

"Haha, thanks." Spain lightly shoved South Italy onto Germany's lap. South Italy pouted and grumbled, crossing his arms like a three year old.

"Now, now," Spain warned. "Tell the nice Santa what you want."

"But I got my presents this morning! What good is this now?" South Italy squabbled.

_That's exactly what I said... _Germany mused.

"If you're good, Santa might come back to give you what you want." Spain offered.

_That's exactly what I said~! _Italy mused, applauding himself.

"Oh, alright." South Italy glared at Germany. "You!"

"Yes?" Germany replied, irritated.

"Just give me more of what _everybody _gave me this year." South Italy instructed, as if everyone knew exactly what he was talking about.

"And what would that be?" Germany asked, struggling to stay polite and Santa-like.

"God, and _you're _supposed to be Santa? You're expected to know this stuff! Do I have to spell it out for you?" South Italy spat, provoking the sudden urge in Germany to strangle South Italy. "Tomatoes! T-O-M-A-T-O-E-S! Get it right!" He fussed, as if he were speaking to a kindergartener.

"Santa will see what he can do, okay?" Germany was resisting as best he could to keep his hands from wringing South Italy's little neck.

"Hmph. And while you're at it, you should try and lose some weight, fat man."

South Italy hopped off Germany's lap and ran over to Spain. They were already walking away.

"They're pillows, you little squirt!" Germany stood up from his throne, shaking his fist in the air. South Italy turned around, still walking, and flicked Germany off, smirking. Germany would've slaughtered him right there and then if mall security hadn't been conveniently driving by on their stupid Segways at that precise moment.

"I swear, if he comes back here, I'll-"

"Doitsu, shh! You're scaring potential customers!" Italy tried to calm down the raging German, but to no avail. "How about we do one more customer and then we go get ready for America's party?"

"And by we, you again mean me, right?"

"Of course."

Germany sighed. For a few minutes, Germany watched the irresponsible last minute Christmas shoppers bustle from place to place, carrying bags in their arms, their mouths, over their neck. They were all racing against time and getting in line for gift wrapping, yelling at their friends to run faster, or dropping their purchases all over the mall floor. It was entertaining, but finally Italy announced he spotted another pair coming their way. Italy ran over to them and pulled them in closer until Germany could see clearly that it was Austria and Hungary.

"Eyaah! How cute!" Hungary exclaimed. "A real mall Santa! Austria, let's go!"

"I don't see what the big deal is-" Austria managed to say before Hungary jerked Austria forward so they could chat with Germany. Hungary bolted up to Germany and plopped down onto his lap.

"A frying pan! I want a new frying pan!" Hungary requested, quite boldly. "And lots of them!" Germany nodded a bit, but didn't say anything. He should have seen this coming.

Hungary leapt off of his lap and grabbed Austria's hand, switching places with him and pushing him roughly to Germany. "Your turn!"

Austria stood next to Germany, refusing to sit in his lap. "Listen, I'll make this simple for you." Austria commanded. "I honestly don't care what you do because I'm not a material kind of person. All I need is my piano and I'm set for life."

"So I'll get you some freaking piano music or something." Germany countered, leaning back in his throne.

"Ah, so you _do _learn fast, elf boy." Austria straightened his flowing cravat.

"I try."

"Oh, and if you could maybe, oh, I don't know, throw in a new cravat or something, I'd-"

"Austria, honey, your turn is up!" announced Hungary, and pulled Austria off the throne. As quickly as they had appeared, Hungary dashed away with Austria flying behind her to some other place in the mall.

"Can we go, now?" Germany grumbled irritably.

"Why Doitsu, the way you ask makes me think you weren't enjoying yourself!" Italy looked questioningly at Germany.

_Was I supposed to be?_ Glad it was over, Germany stripped off the Santa suit, grabbed Italy, and left. He was probably not going to think nice thoughts about the mall again for a while.

~O~

Luckily for Germany, Italy kept his promise. The two went back to the building after the event, and Germany gratefully threw the Santa suit against a wall. Back at the building, Italy fussed about how they should look, and was suddenly in charge of both their outfits. But after a long and stressful argument, Germany managed to persuade Italy to let them wear their regular military uniforms. Italy's side of the bargain was that Germany had to let Italy wash and iron the uniforms and 'make them pretty'. Grudgingly, Germany accepted.

It was overbearingly hectic, but in good time they got out of the building and into the car, arriving at America's place about an hour after the party began. It was fine, they weren't even the last to show up. In fact, they were almost early.

As they stepped into the giant place, the booming music was the first thing that hit them. It was almost as loud and booming as America's voice. There was a band playing on an enormous stage and people and tables were everywhere. There was food as far as the eye could see, and giant windows lined the walls giving a clear view of the falling snow outside. There was even a monster chandelier hanging from the very center of the establishment, which was actually a glass dome reinforced with multiple gold colored metal rods, making sure the chandelier would not fall. It was beyond impressive and pretty sophisticated for someone like America.

America spotted them in the flood of people and dashed over. "You guys made it!" America bellowed. "Where's your date, Doitsu? You promised!"

"I...er..." Germany tried to explain, but couldn't.

"Doitsu, Doitsu," America sighed, shaking his head. "You disappoint me. I was really looking forward to seeing what kind of lady you're comfortable around."

"...sorry." Germany apologized. _How about none?_

"Well, anyway, go have fun, do whatever you want. Eat! Socialize! Drink! Socialize some more! Then you leave! Isn't that how all parties go?"

Before either Germany or Italy could reply, America ran off to greet some other guests. Italy took America's advice automatically and grabbed something to eat. Germany awkwardly followed Italy around until he saw some wurst on the table, which he grabbed merrily. This could prove to be fun, after all.

As it turned out, every country you could think of had been invited, and they all showed up. Germany was surprised by the number of people with absolutely nothing to do on Christmas. There was lively chatter filling the air mingling with the festive music, creating an atmosphere of trust, just for a few hours. Hell, even Greece and Turkey were talking like civilized countries. Germany found England leaning against the wall alone, mumbling something grouchily under his breath. England noticed Germany coming his way, suddenly becoming territorial.

"What do you want, _Axis?_" England spat, rudely referring to Germany by the group he belonged to. Amazingly enough, England wasn't completely smashed yet. "Where's your friend Italy?"

"Probably somewhere eating and talking to other countries like the rest of us." Germany guessed simply, munching on another piece of wurst. "Why're you so aggravated?"

"I'm not aggravated!" England quarreled, but he quickly softened. "Friggin' America invites me to this stupid party, an' then the bloke deserts me. I know he's the host an' all, but...an' there's no way in hell I'm talking to that creep France. I barely know China..." England exhaled, grabbing a bottle of rum from a nearby snack table. "I'm just so bloody bored!"

"You too, eh?" Germany joined England and leaned against the wall in the same manner as England. "Italy's just better with people than I am in general." Germany grabbed a bottle of beer. "I almost feel outclassed." He chuckled and opened the beer, chugging it down. England followed suit with his rum.

Both countries were silent while they drank their beverages, but they were both thinking the same thing.

_Alcohol is my only friend!_

Meanwhile, after only a few sips of wine, Italy was out on the dance floor livin' it up. He looked like an idiot, doing a combination of the juke, the cupid shuffle, and the moonwalk. It sounds impossible, but try telling that to Italy. He was the one dancing.

The song ended, and Italy was dragged off by none other than Switzerland. "Those are some fancy moves you've got there." Switzerland commented. "Where'd you learn them?"

"I wing d'it." said Italy, already slurring his speech. "I m'a pro!"

Switzerland nearly choked on the Brunsli he had been eating. Laughing, he said, "A pro, eh?"

"Y -hic- ep!"

"Say," Switzerland noticed. "Where's your German friend?"

"D-Doitsu?" Italy struggled to keep his thoughts in place. "He's...-hic- I 'unno."

"Well, if you see him, tell him he's got a mighty fine dancer he needs to take care of." Switzerland complimented.

"Really? -hic- Who?" Italy wanted to know who it was so he could challenge him to a show down and take him down for good.

"...tell Doitsu he has an idiot on his hands as well."

"Mmk. -hic-" Switzerland led Italy to a chair, where he fell asleep immediately. Switzerland shook his head in disagreement.

"Next time you go to a party, learn how to handle a drink or two." Switzerland sighed, fixing Italy so he wasn't falling out of his chair.

"Amen to that, brotha!" Canada proclaimed drunkenly from the table next to Italy's, holding up his can of ginger beer.

In the background, Belarus was chasing Russia with a shovel she had somehow gotten a hold of, Prussia laughing hysterically at Russia's despair.

"How many times do I have to tell you that I don't want to marry you?" Russia shouted, gasping at how fast Belarus was gaining speed.

"Don't worry, my love! After a couple of whacks from this lovely shovel, you're sure to change your mind!" Belarus promised, grasping for Russia's scarf.

Sealand was in a corner in a demonic state, repeating the same phrase over and over. "I was invited... I was invited... I was invited... I was invited..."

France was attempting to flirt with Ukraine, who was dressed in the least revealing clothes she could find.

"Why don't I pour us some wine and we can get to know each other better, mon chéri?" France held up a thorny red rose to Ukraine, who was waving her hands and blushing wildly.

"No, I really don't think that's a good idea..." Ukraine stammered. "I...I have to go..."

"Oh? But you just got here!" France persisted.

In another part of the building, the three Baltic countries were huddled together, chattering nervously.

"I know this is a party and everything, but as long as Russia is here, I can't help but feel uneasy..." Lithuania indicated.

"I'm sure we can find a way to survive this..." Estonia assured.

"I wish we could go home..." sobbed Latvia.

The party lasted for quite some time, and some where pleasantly reluctant to leave. Others couldn't have been happier. Germany and Italy met back up, getting their coats and going out the door. America was thanking people for coming and giving out Santa hats as party favors. Certain countries like Russia were happy to wear them on their way out, while others didn't feel like putting them on. Italy had his Santa hat on, fully recovered from his wine. Germany had learned self control and only drank some of his beer, unlike England, who was out cold again and was going to be driven home by America.

"Consider yourself lucky," America had whispered to Germany on his way out. "You don't have to clean up this mess."

"You mean the party?" Germany asked. America laughed loudly.

"No, I've got people for that. I meant England." He gestured towards the Englishman's body lying on the floor, unconscious.

When they left the building, Italy tugged on Germany's sleeve. "Doitsu, let's walk around." Italy suggested. "I don't want to go home just yet."

So, submitting to Italy's desires, they strolled down the streets together. The snow fell around them slowly, and they watched the crowds of people bustle down the streets. They could hear the tolling of silver bells and the faint sound of church choirs in the distance, and beyond the haze was the clatter of people in horse-driven carriages and bikes, all trying to get home to their families and sit around an open flame, reading aloud from an ancient story or play with the family pet. The brick walls around the streets were covered in snow, as were the trees behind them. The entire world was white.

Germany rummaged in his pocket and found a stick of Wrigley gum. He stared at it for a bit, then came to a final decision. He split it in half.

"Italy, here." Germany handed Italy the bigger half.

"Oh, thanks Doitsu!" Italy cheered and stuck it in his mouth, chewing it to soften the substance. The two countries simultaneously spaced out again, gazing at the passerby. Italy thought about the presents he had received, making a mental list about this Christmas's strengths and weaknesses, thinking about how to make next year all the better. Germany was thinking about what would happen after the holidays were over: all the training to make up, all the quarterly reports he hadn't filled out, all the preparations for New Year, all the beer he had to buy to replenish his stash. Both the countries were wondering about something, not paying attention to their surroundings. Italy began to walk diagonally, ready to walk straight into the street to be run over. That is, until Germany noticed. Germany grabbed Italy's hand, yanking him back onto the sidewalk.

"Geez," Germany wouldn't let go of Italy's hand. "I can't take my eyes off you for a minute, can I?"

Italy bent his head down in shame. "I'm sorry, Doitsu..." Italy apologized. "I was...thinking."

Germany, not trusting Italy, didn't let go of his hand. They continued to walk down the sidewalk, peering at the passing stores. Stores selling candy that smelled of chocolate and sweets, and were filled with excited children begging their mothers for quarters to buy a gumball. Stores selling toys that held miniature rocking horses and jump ropes, also busily fluttering with children taking out their allowance to buy themselves that puzzle they'd been saving up for a month. They were all decorated with lights and plastic candy canes, beautiful window displays with items that filled you with an urge to take out your wallet.

"Doitsu," Italy began. "Can we sit down? My legs are a bit tired."

"Sure." Germany shrugged. They went a bit further until they found a quaint wooden bench, the kind you could often find old men sitting, feeding pigeons. Germany sat down, and Italy sat next to him, leaning his head on Germany's shoulder. Germany then remembered to let go of Italy's hand. They were silent, wondering about what would happen to them when they got back to the building. It had been a pretty uneventful Christmas.

"Doitsu," Italy murmured softly. "Lend me your lap."

"Why do you-" Germany started, but his question was swiftly answered as Italy's head fell into Germany's lap. Normally, Germany would have told Italy to get off him, but Italy was already asleep. Startled, Germany bent over and gazed at Italy. Germany had never actually looked at Italy in detail when he was asleep.

_He looks so peaceful,_ Germany commented. _Like an angel._

Germany continued to look at Italy, memorizing his features, the creases in his face. Germany listened to the pattern of Italy's breathing, the beating of Italy's heart. Germany wasn't used to a quiet Italy, and he wanted to savor this opportunity. He took a deep breath, contemplating everything that had happened until then.

_Fine, I can admit that I have strong feelings for Italy. Hell, even right now, I can't stop looking at him. _Germany noted. _But I still have no way to be sure that Italy has feelings for me, and I'm not going to risk anything unless I can be sure. But the minute he makes a move, there's no more holding back. If I have to wait for anyone, _Germany sighed. _I'm glad it's for him._

"He never did tell me what my Christmas present was..." Germany mumbled to himself, still leaned over Italy.

As sudden as he had fallen asleep, Italy sprang up from Germany's lap and put his hands on Germany's cheeks, pulling him in and pressing his lips to Germany's.

"Mm!"

The kiss held for half a minute before Italy broke it. "Surprise! Merry Christmas, Doitsu."

Germany blinked, caught of guard. Then, he laughed. All the nervousness melted away. "Surprise, indeed." Germany pressed his lips against Italy's again, a feeling of bliss and relief surrounding them.

An uneventful Christmas? Bah, humbug.

~O~

That's it, boys and girls. The last chapter. Hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! Now, I'm calling on everyone reading this right now. Review! Anyone whose read this and hasn't reviewed owes me! Come on, it'll be your Christmas gift to me. A review! Just one? Please? NO threats this time, just an honest, kindhearted plea for reviews! (Kindhearted? ME? Bahahahahaha!) Also, SEE? I don't need any god damn mistletoe for a cute but cliche ending! I can make them kiss any way I want! Anyway, I absolutely loved talking to you guys through my fic and the reviews, and I'm gonna miss you all so much, especially the ones that were with me every step of the way. You know who you are. :P But I'll most definitely be writing more Hetalia fics (most likely, yaoi X3) in the future, so stay with me. Prosecutie out!


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